


An Unexpected Valentines

by miscreant_rose



Series: A Jolly Good Ship [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Captain Swan - Freeform, Drabbles, F/M, Ficlets, Fluff, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3677091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miscreant_rose/pseuds/miscreant_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma & Killian's first Valentine's as a couple, and the worry over the proper gift....</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Valentines

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little Valentine's Day fic for the lovely ship mates....

**_An Unexpected Valentine’s_ **

Resting her forehead against the steering wheel of the bug, she forces steady breaths in and out, trying to muster up the last reserve of her strength that seemed to be hiding down in her toes.  She can do this.  She can fight her body’s desire to be sick and make it up the flight of stairs to their apartment, to enjoy the Valentine’s dinner she knew he would be preparing after she had begged off a night out earlier in the week when he had asked if she had any romantic dining preferences.

Truth be told, at this moment, nothing was more enticing than just a night in alone.

That is, if her body would cooperate.

She groans as a fresh round of perspiration begins to bloom across her brow.   _Come on Swan, you can do this.  Stairs.  Killian.  Couch._

 The pictured reward is enough to get her moving and out of the car.  She wonders again how much of her day she has actually missed — twice her father had caught her nodding off at work.  This was knocking her for a loop, and honestly, it wasn’t how she wanted to spend her first romantic holiday as a couple with Killian.

The clatter her keys dropping into the bowl by the door makes Killian peer around the corner from the kitchen.  Despite the lurch of her stomach in a less than positive manner at the aromas of cooking, she can’t help but smile at him and thrill at the little rush of excitement that still runs through her every time she sees him.  God, she’s hopeless.   

“There’s my Valentine,”  he grins, coming to great her.  

His bright red “Kiss the Cook” apron has her smiling all the wider — she had threatened to cross out the _C_ and replace it with an _H_ when he had bought it.  Nuzzling her face into the side of his neck with a sigh, she leans nearly all her weight against him.

He holds her up easily in his embrace, finally pulling back to frown down at her.  “Still?  Love, if you don’t take a day off, you won’t shake this thing.”

She gives a soft snort.  “As if I could take a day off and not have some new curse crash down on us.”  Sinking down into the couch, she leans her head back and closes her eyes with a blissful sigh.  She cracks open an eye to catch him looking at her with a worried look on his face.  Reaching up, she tugs at the hem of his apron, “Come here, _Cook_.”

He rolls his eyes, but joins her, arms coming around her as she happily curls herself into his side.  “See?” she murmurs, trying to hide the yawn that threatens to swallow her whole.  “All better.”

He leans back, pulling her closer to his chest.  “Why don’t I believe you, and suspect this is all a ploy for you to fall asleep and cause me to burn dinner?”

Groaning, she props her chin on her hands to look up at him.  “I would never,” she says in mock affront, but another yawn plows into her and makes her want to pin him down under a nap as he had so cleverly accused her.  She rubs at her eyes, and settles back down against him, face tilted up to his.  “Besides it wouldn’t be fair to ruin your present to me.”

The caress of his fingers through her hair and against her scalp has a far too soothing effect, and she loses herself once more in watching his face, the emotions that play across blue eyes she can never seem to get enough of.  

“Good thing I know about your cunning plans, and turned off the burner and set the oven to keep warm.”

“Good thing I found a pirate who can cook,” she chuckles.  Her fingers find the buttons of his shirt that are peeking out above the top of the apron and she twirls them, wondering if her last minute idea of a Valentine’s gift is really a good idea after all.  Suddenly her stomach is flipping over from nerves rather than the need to be sick.  His fingers continue to stroke against her neck, finding the knots of tension there and ever so gently beginning to tease them away.  

Fighting the weight of her eyelids and the bone-heavy tiredness that seems to weigh down her limbs, she pushes herself to sitting up, and takes a deep breath, as if that alone can give her the courage to do what she is about to do.  She gives him a look of, _Here goes nothing_ , that makes him frown, but she is already reaching for one of the cubbies tucked under the coffee table, fishing out the box she had hidden in there this morning.  

Settling herself once more into his side, she turns the long slender box over in her hands a few times before finally meeting his eyes again and passing it to him.  “Here you go, Captain Valentine.”

A slow smile creeps across his face, making dimples peek out under his scruff.  He holds the box up, looking at her with an amused expression as he recognizes it as a recycled box from his Christmas gift to her.  “A bracelet?  Really, Swan?”

“Well, you know, I figure you have the rings, the earrings and the necklace going on, we might as well complete your line of accessories.”

He leans down to plant a kiss on the end of her nose, but tugs the red ribbon off the box nevertheless.  “Let’s see if you have my style down right,” he says, lifting the lid of the box.

She bites her lip, watching his expression carefully, breath held, suddenly more awake than she has been in days, every nerve racing.  No doubt he could feel the rapid pounding of her heart through her ribs and against his.

His now confused expression, the slight frown curving his lips, she watches, waiting, worrying, as that frown is suddenly lifted, along with his brows and she feels him suck in a breath as he meets her gaze.  “Emma, is this —”

The question hangs there between them for a few quick heartbeats as she slowly nods, daring to hope.  

Box and lid slide from his fingers as her pulls her up tighter into his embrace, warm lips finding hers in a sudden rush, trying to speak and kiss her all at once.  She can’t help the relieved laugh that she puffs out into his mouth, her own emotions a matching tumble of his.

“Pregnant?  Really?”

She slants her lips across his in a lingering caress.  “Well, I didn’t go find some random pregnant woman to pee on that stick for me.”

He nips at her lower lip with that before caressing the spot with his tongue — she can taste his shared joy and excitement in a way she never imagined, never dared hope.  

“How long have you known?” he questions, still reluctant to leave her mouth.

“Just long enough to avoid getting you a proper Valentine’s Day gift.”

His lips catch hers in another kiss, voice thick with emotion.  “This, love, is more than any proper Valentine’s gift.”

She chuckles, but pulls back to give him stern look glance.  “Maybe.  But just don’t go expecting one every year.”


End file.
